


Sleeping Heir

by beestung2025



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-24 00:30:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14344170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beestung2025/pseuds/beestung2025
Summary: AU. Tom Riddle falls under a sleeping enchantment late in his 6th year. A Slytherin Hermione revives him. 2 shot. Tomione





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this aaaaaages ago and posted it to FF .net but not here-- so if you hadn't seen it on there, here is a cutesy little Tomione (my first crack at this ship).

No one was ever quite sure if there had been a Muggle-born sorted into Slytherin House before. Definitely not in living memory. Certainly not in the last 200 years. And highly unlikely before that. Half-bloods or not-quite Purebloods were rather common, as the Wizarding population would have entirely died out, had they not started marrying muggles. The question of bigotry against muggle-born witches and wizards largely ran within the last remaining Pureblood families; the Sacred 28 as they claimed. Slytherin House, at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, was full of Purebloods, more than any of the other four houses, with a few select Half-bloods (that is to say, a pureblood magical parent and a non pureblood parent). Only the most bigoted Purebloods think that anything but the absolute abstinence of any non magical blood constituted a pureblood (all of which are found within the list of the Sacred 28 pureblood families), whereas the majority of the wizarding population felt that three-quarters (a half-blood with a pureblood) would count.

 

It was on Sept 1, 1991 that Slytherin House gained it’s first muggleborn student, one  Hermione Granger. And the shockwaves it sent through the bigoted wizarding worldview was profound. Reactions ranged from a petition forwarded to the Hogwarts Board of Governors to Howlers sent directly to the Headmaster. As if Albus Dumbledore could, or even would, have done anything but side with the Sorting Hat, the magical object created by the school’s founders 1000 years ago when it came time for the four founders to think to the future and who would select the students they wanted under their tutelage long after they were gone.

* * *

 

Hermione Jean Granger had been a rather lonely child, but well loved by her parents. At times inexplicable things happened around her, but for the most part, she simply took it in stride, her fantastic imagination getting lost within her worlds of books. She could, and would read everything she could. At one point, her mother found her in the Occult section of a bookstore and was horrified to find her eight year old daughter nose deep into ‘A History of Witchcraft in Modern Britain,’ particularly when her daughter commented, “I don’t think that book has anything about real magic in it anyways. Nothing like I’ve seen, at least.” It made Mrs Granger wonder what her daughter had seen, and why her daughter would attempt to read occult books at that. The Grangers weren’t particularly religious, but after that incident, Hermione’s parents made it a point to go to church every Sunday thereafter. Hermione was both pleased and not particularly surprised when a polite letter arrived on her 11th birthday that she had been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Her parents weren’t sure what to make of the inexplicable letter, nor of the smiling man in odd clothing that showed up to their house for tea that day, confirming the receipt of Hermione’s letter and to answer any questions they may have about the reality of magic in their decidedly non magical world.

Hermione did not want to wait to get her books. It was confirmed that the next weekend, the smiling man with the half-moon glasses, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, would accompany them into a magical district, Diagon Alley where Hermione could get her school books and any other reading she might want. Other school supplies, Dumbledore recommended, should wait until closer to the following year as performing magic outside of school was strictly prohibited and she would need to wait almost a full year before she would start at the school.

Hermione devoured the school books, reading and re-reading them over again. For Christmas, she begged her parents to take her back to Diagon Alley for more books instead of presents. Her parents complied, and within the bookstore, Flourish & Blotts, Hermione selected the next two grades textbooks of standard spells, as well as theory books for some of the basic topics she heard of. It was here that she met her very first friend, Neville Longbottom. He was with a stately older woman, dressed in black, with a red crocodile purse and a stuffed vulture on her pointy hat. The woman was severe looking, but smiled kindly at Hermione, seeing the advanced texts in her hands, and her animated conversation with her withdrawn grandson, who was smiling and even chatting back, which was a bit of a rarity. Both were to start Hogwarts the next year, and agreed to be pen pals, and hopefully meet up before school starts. Hermione impressed the older witch with her memorization of her first year texts already, and Neville’s grandmother quickly decided she wanted this bright, precocious child to be a friend to Neville once they got to school. The Grangers were happy to accept Mrs. Longbottom’s offer of tea in the upcoming weeks, and Hermione was thrilled to have a pen pal that she could send letters by owl as well as to fill herself in on what a magical upbringing was like. Hermione was secretly also quite relieved she’d be able to start her schooling with a friend, unlike the rest of her muggle schooling, where she’d skipped many forms. Even if she been better at making friends, the age gap of 2-3 years at such a young age was difficult. Hogwarts, to Hermione, represented a new beginning for her— one where she would fit in, where she would have friends, and where her schoolwork would be fun instead of routine. She would be learning magic!

It was Sept 1, 1991, when Hermione Granger’s dreams for her new school were tarnished. Boarding the scarlet steam train on Platform 9 3/4 with Neville had been as wonderful as she’d hoped. They had arrived slightly early and found a cabin for themselves and Neville’s toad, Trevor. A few students poked their heads in, but no one seemed interested in sharing the compartment with the two first years, particularly with one already in her school uniform. Neville had taken Trevor out of his cage and was holding him, when the toad wriggled free, as he tended to do, and hopped out of the compartment door, starting a wild chase by Hermione and Neville, up and down the train trying to find and catch Trevor the toad. It was by chance that Hermione found another carriage that had two first years that were on their own, one of whom hand their wand out. Eager to see magic performed, Hermione demanded to be shown. The spell went something along the lines of sunshine, daisies and yellow, very clearly didn’t work. Hermione, sure of what she’d already memorized from her textbooks for the year and the bits of magic Mrs. Longbottom had shown her and let her try with her wand, stated that she didn’t think it was a spell at all, but everything she had tried had worked so far. Proud of herself, she was a rather puzzled and extremely disappointed that the boy with his wand out was annoyed with her, while the other just seemed puzzled. She introduced herself, and the boys were Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter. Harry Potter, she knew, was famous for surviving the dark curse that destroyed his family’s home, killing his parents when he was no more than a baby. Hermione was suitably impressed at meeting the boy, but took her leave to find Neville and Trevor. 

While the trip by train took a few hours, Hermione found the time flew by and before she knew it, was in the foyer of the great castle that would be her home for the next seven years. And that was truly what she felt, down to her core— that she had come home, that she finally belonged somewhere. The Sorting scared her more than it should have, as she had read about it in one of her school books, and Mrs. Longbottom described it so that no one could lie to her and Neville in attempts to scare them. But even if it was just trying on a hat, Hermione didn’t really want to do so in front of the whole school. She was curious that the hat seemed to need time to decide on some students but not others.

She tried to be dignified when it was her turn to go up. She read all about the different school houses, and didn’t really have a preference— though thought she’d probably end up in Ravenclaw where intelligence was prized— just as long as she could still be friends with Neville. Hermione sat gracefully on the stool, and the hat was lowered onto her head. She could hear a little voice in her ear, speaking quietly to her.

_ “Hmm, Hermione Granger, what a head full of knowledge you have here. A real thirst for it, but beyond a normal Ravenclaw. You have ambitions to know things, to excel. Loyalty runs deep for you, but is hard for you to form close bonds, and it is your loyalty which could propel you into acts of great bravery. Yet, you are not quite a Gryffindor either. My, my, what is this? You are quite cunning with your knowledge, and quick with a story to avert trouble. Much more to you than will ever meet the eye. Salazar Slytherin himself would have picked you for his house. Yes, you will achieve your greatest potential and satisfy your ambitions in—“ _

“SLYTHERIN!”

The last word was shouted out to the hall, where a table with green and silver banners hung over it, and the students were clapping. Hermione set the hat onto the stool and walked to the table, throwing a glance at Neville. There was no way they’d be in the same house. Neville figured he’d like be in Gryffindor like his parents and grandparents, or Hufflepuff like his great aunt.

This was the moment when Hermione’s dreams started to crumble. She knew it was irrational, she could still be friends with Neville, but he’d be farther away from her than they’d hoped. The other Slytherins, when she sat down, shot her appraising looks, some of them disapproving of her riot of bushy curls, and what she didn’t know yet, her lack of familiar name. It was during dinner that the subject of families was brought up, and information was clearly being fished for to place the students into a sort of hierarchy. Said hierarchy was immediately obvious to Hermione who had spent the rest of the Sorting studying the table she was at, surveying her fellow housemates. Once the subject of families was broached, everything clicked into place for her.

A girl in her year with a snub nose that reminded Hermione of a pug squealed, “Oh, my mother will be so pleased I’m in Slytherin as well. Not like there was any other House I could possibly be in.” Hermione remembered her name had been announced as Pansy Parkinson.

“I haven’t heard of your name before.” A pale boy with white blonde hair stared her down. He was also in Hermione’s year.

“Is that so?” Hermione paused eating, set down her silverware and took a sip from her goblet before looking pointedly at the boy. There was an awkward silence at their end of the table, and Hermione saw no need to break it.

“Everyone knows the best families.” The boy tried to continue.

“Really. How… fascinating.” Hermione smiled blandly. The boy’s name was… blast she couldn’t remember. She’d been focusing on Neville who was sorted into Gryffindor just before this boy.

“I can’t seem to remember your name.” Hermione shrugged, before picking up her cutlery again.

“It’s Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. And if you actually belonged in Slytherin you’d know it.” The pale boy snapped.

“Well, Malfoy, or Bad Faith, I was sorted here and so I apparently belong here. I’m not here for the company, that’s for sure.” Hermione looked at him pointedly.

“Bad Faith?” A girl with short brown hair next to her asked.

“Translation from old French.” Hermione stated.

“Sure you’re not a Ravenclaw?” The Parkinson girl snickered.

“If I was, the conversation would probably be more interesting.” Hermione sighed.

“Well, I’m Tracey Davis” the girl next to Hermione introduced herself.

“It’s lovely to meet you Tracey. I’m Hermione Granger.” She smiled at the girl.

“But who knows of any Grangers? Where are you from?” The Malfoy boy continued.

“Does it really matter who my family is? It’s not like they’re here to do my schooling for me.” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“So you’re not from any family… you’re… you’re a mudblood!” The Malfoy boy’s eyes widened and everyone within hearing of him stopped talking and eating.

“Hmm?” Hermione didn’t bother looking at the boy. It was obviously intended as an insult, but it’s hard to be insult someone who didn’t take offense, she reasoned.

“Muggle-born. Non magical parents.” Tracey whispered to Hermione while the Parkinson girl gasped, “A mudblood in Slytherin? Impossible!”

Hermione sighed deeply. “I don’t have magical parents. The hat took it’s time in choosing where to put me and said Salazar Slytherin himself would have selected me. So I guess that makes me a Slytherin mudblood. Now, if you’re not going to say anything else intelligent, do shut up.”

“Not, a Slytherin mudblood, THE Slytherin Mudblood.” An older student a few seats down spoke up. “There’s never been one before. Ever, in the whole history of Hogwarts.”

“Well that’s just lucky for me then.” Hermione commented sarcastically before stabbing a potato with her fork. Aside from Tracey who would say something to her now and then, the rest of her house refused to talk to her or speak to her. Apparently being muggle-born was the worst offense so far. It made about as much sense to her as when she was back home and other children would tease her for reading or doing well in school. 

In the dorm, the situation got worse. Pansy Parkinson was the worst, insisting she had to have the bed that was farthest away from ‘The Mudblood,’ whereas Tracey, who everyone found out had a muggle mother, subtly claimed the bed next to Hermione, leaving the other Pureblood, a Daphne Greengrass, to be between Tracey and Pansy. Hermione was closest to the door, which she preferred. She immediately went to her trunk and started organizing her things, looking up some spells from one of the advanced texts she’d gotten for Christmas for spells to protect her things. She was not willing to put anything past Pansy or any of the older girls if they decided to come in.

“Are you studying ALREADY?” Pansy sneered.

“Actually, no. I’m just laying down some enchantments. I prefer my privacy.” Hermione replied, still flipping through her book.

“Isn’t that a 3rd year book?” Tracey asked

“Yes. I already memorized everything from The Standard Book of Spells, Year 1. 2 and 3 I still need to reference but I’ve got a pretty good hang of everything.” Hermione replied, settling on some sticking charms to make sure her things couldn’t be removed from their place.

“You— memorized it?” Daphne asked in awe. She wasn’t as snobby as Pansy, but made no move to be nice either.

“Yes. It wasn’t terribly hard. I had most of the past year to do it. So I decided to get the next two years as well, and start working on those. I can only do so much at my own home, but Mrs Longbottom was always nice and helpful whenever I was over with Neville.” Hermione replied.

“If you’re muggle-born, how do you know purebloods like the Longbottoms?” ask Daphne, curious.

“We met at Flourish & Blotts around Christmas, when I asked my parents to take me to get more books to read. My birthday is on the 19th, so I had almost a year between my letter and actually going to school. I’ve been to Diagon Alley a few times, actually.” Hermione looked up and smiled at Daphne, taking note of the scowl on Pansy’s face. Daphne gave a small smile back.

“Well, I guess we know who to ask for help when we get stuck.” Tracey laughed, but no one joined in. Hermione gave a smile though.

“I just really like to read. I hope to go to the library tomorrow, actually.” Hermione grinned at the thought. She found another spell to repel damage, which she cast on her things as well. It was complicated, but when she tried to tear a page out of a book, it was impossible. Hermione was pleased, and her roommates, shocked.

“What spell was that?” Tracey asked, wide eyed.

“A variation of a repelling charm. There are a few— you can make a cloak repel water, for example. I made my book repel damage.” Hermione answered brightly. She was now going to look up some more advanced locking charms, but figured she had at least a day with regular locks, as she doubted any of the girls in the room could pick a lock with a hair pin, as she’d taught herself after reading about it in some mystery novels. And while the basic unlocking spell was in their year 1 text book, she didn’t think the rest of her roommates had opened their books yet.

“Woah, I might ask you for help with my cloak. Do you think it would work on hair?” Daphne asked brightly. Even Pansy looked curious at that.

Hermione blinked. “Well, I don’t see why it couldn’t, if you cast it correctly. I never really thought about charming my hair.”

“I know a few of those! Hey, if I teach you some hair charms, do you think you could teach me the water repelling charm?” Daphne offered, Pansy nodded behind her. “I know some beauty spells as well. Mother insisted.”

“I think we can come to an arrangement.” Hermione smiled. She did not pretend that these girls were her friends— she didn’t like the way they only chose to like her when she could offer them something, but if there could be agreement to be reached to be pleasant, Hermione would be pleased as punch. She had Neville to be friends with. And maybe Tracey, who apparently didn’t care that she was Muggle-born. Well, having a non magical parent would probably do that.

Her first night in the castle was not what she expected, but Hermione decided, it could have been worse. And she did not like the looks she got from the rest of Slytherin house when word quickly spread that she was Muggle-born. If she could get them to realize her potential as her roommates did, Hermione surmised that she could make herself quite comfortable in Slytherin house. Anything she provided, be it spells or knowledge outside of class, was going to need to be bartered. And after getting a peek at the catalogues that Daphne and Pansy were pouring over, she might just have things worth buying aside from books.

* * *

 

 

Hermione Granger was never caught going against the rules, per se, but it was likely because she knew the rules so well. She was almost caught by her head of house, Professor Severus Snape, in her second year brewing potions for cash, but after letting slip that she only learned from the best and a certain Eileen Prince had never gotten in trouble for brewing potions for herself. Of course, Snape smiled nastily and told Hermione to not sell her private stock of potions— it was his mother of course, that Hermione had cited for her defense, who had in actuality been selling potions for profit during her school days. Hermione did well with sobering solutions, particularly as it was generally bought in a hurry and with the least amount of notice and Hermione always kept a well maintained stock of that. 

She also did incredibly well with a hangover cure of her own invention in her 3rd year, which is when she was under the scrutiny of Professor Snape again. Somehow, she managed to get away with a single detention, when he decided he would oversee her brewing and bottling the potion, while looking over and questioning her on the recipe. When satisfied the potion did exactly what it was supposed to and wouldn’t cause bodily harm, the Professor awarded her fifty points for good work and the recommendation to patent the recipe, and subcontract out brewing it. Hermione wasted no time in filing the papers for the potion to be patented, and was pleased that it passed the Ministry’s review board by the end of her 3rd year. She planned to spend that summer researching potions distributers and how to create her own company to manage it. The work didn’t require the use of a wand, a limitation she found very frustrating over the summer.

Hermione also did very well in the tutoring business within her year, and as she got older, years below her. Even a few older students contracted her. She was not an easy tutor to have, but if you hired Hermione Granger, you’d get at least one letter grade or more higher. The Goyle and Crabbe families kept her on a retainer from her second year on, so their sons Gregory and Vincent, would get Acceptables or event Exceeds Expectations on all of their coursework— much better than the Dreadfuls and Trolls they compiled their first year. And after hearing what Hermione could do with them, she was kept pretty busy and was saving quite a bit of money up.

And so it came to be that by the end of her second year, Slytherin House affectionately called her their Mudblood Princess, learning that while a slur to most, Hermione never learned to care and took it as a badge of pride. After all, it’s hard to see it as a slur when she was the best at whatever she set her mind. If her blood was mud, and she was besting them, then their blood wasn’t doing them very much good, whereas hers suited her just fine. By the end of her 3rd year, Hermione Granger was simply the Slytherin Princess; she’d become endeared to her house for winning points, always fitting Slytherins in for tutoring sessions, and generally getting away with everything from selling potions to trading in ‘contraband’ muggle goods that the Purebloods wanted but couldn’t get due to their parents. If you wanted something procured for you, you asked the Slytherin Princess, and she’d cut you a fair bargain.

Hermione, while busy, was still a fairly lonely girl. While Tracey Davis was the closest person she was to in Slytherin, Hermione never really trusted the Slytherins except that they were possessive of her— she may have been a mudblood but she was  _ their _ mudblood. She was their Slytherin Princess. And she ruled by being knowledgeable, and generally having favors owed to her when someone couldn’t pay for a much needed sobering solution or a tutoring session so they wouldn’t fail a class. It was those debts that Hermione savored, knowing that with a few strings pulled she could get anything she really wanted if necessary. Neville Longbottom, however, was the only person Hermione truly counted on as a friend. She always helped him with his homework, exempting him from her hard and fast rule of always charging for tutoring help. Neville was grateful to her, and always slightly in awe of his friend, but the two of them were loyal to the bone. It was Hermione who encouraged Neville to ask out his first girlfriend, and Neville who insisted that Hermione accept Viktor Krum, Bulgarian Quidditch star and Durmstrang Triwizard competitor, proposal to go to the Yule Ball held their 4th year. Hermione encouraged Neville’s interest in Herbology, noticing how easily the subject came to him and plants just seemed to love him. 

Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger’s strictly platonic friendship baffled some, but it always simply made sense to each other. They were like brother and sister, and Neville simply understood that Hermione hated that she constantly needed to be ‘The Slytherin Princess’ when out with anyone else, whereas she was just Hermione with Neville. Even boyfriends, including a fun tryst with the Weasley twins during her fifth year, expected her to be ‘The Slytherin Princess.’ Hermione enjoyed her power and influence, but she also found that without her schedule that required people to leave her alone to brew, spend time with Neville, or her personal reading time, she would be inundated with lackeys seeking favors or wanting something from her— even if she’d be well compensated. She just wanted time to be herself. And so far, only Neville understood the pressures on her, and never made any demands. It was why he was her only true friend, in her opinion. Tracey was close, but at heart was also a Slytherin.

And eventually, Neville took Hermione to meet his parents. It wasn’t well known that the same rogue group of dark wizards that cursed the Potter’s house had previously evaded capture when they had tortured to insanity Neville’s parents, who had been Aurors alongside Harry’s. Neville confided in Hermione during their first year what happened to his parents and why he lived with his stern grandmother. It wasn’t until the next year that he took her to visit his parents with him, over the Christmas break. 

And that was when her life changed, because in the Janus Thickey permanent spell damage ward of St Mungo’s, Hermione saw the sleeping boy, looking to be sixteen or seventeen, off in a corner away from all other patients. Nothing seemingly could wake him from his enchanted sleep. He fascinated her, and over the years she found herself dreaming of him, in a reverse version of the Sleeping Beauty muggle fairytale she’d grown up with.


	2. Chapter 2

 

It was the morning of New Year’s Eve during their 6th year, and Hermione had offered to go with Neville to see his parents. They hadn’t gone to see them yet this break, a tradition that Hermione shared with Neville since he first brought her to ‘meet’ his parents. The Longbottoms didn’t recognize their son, or anyone actually, but it was a source of comfort for Neville to go see them, tell them about his life, and eventually, for Hermione to meet them and talk to them. Hermione thought that Neville’s mother’s eyes looked brighter when they left her, and his father’s mumblings became more coherent.

Over the years, Hermione took to stopping by the bed of the sleeping boy, noticing his Hogwarts uniform and Slytherin tie. It must have been her 3rd visit to the ward to see Neville’s parents, when she finally decided that the boy with no visitors should have someone to talk to as well. And since then, she’d make a point to go sit with him, and chat awhile. As she got older she secretly thought of the young man as the Slytherin Prince to her Slytherin Princess.

“Hello, my prince. Your Slytherin Princess is here. They call me that genuinely now. It’s rather funny, don’t you think? It was supposed to be an insult at first, and now they all try to curry favor with me.” Hermione sat down on the side of the bed, next to the enchanted sleeper. 

She’d noticed last year how heartbreakingly handsome he was, with his alabaster skin, features that belonged on a marble statue, and dark brown hair.  She’d read the notes on his chart at the foot of his bed. 

_ Name: Tom Marvolo Riddle.  _

_ Birthday: December 31, 1926 _

_ Affliction: Unknown potion ingested in 1944 by unknown means, enchanted sleep; in stasis.  _   
  


“It’s your birthday today, Slytherin Prince. I don’t know if you’d count the years you’ve been in stasis or not, but I still wanted to say happy birthday. I never like to celebrate mine. Neville and I sneak to the kitchens for a special tea, but I keep my birthday private from Slytherin House. I’m sure you’d understand. Somehow, I feel you’re like me.” Hermione looked down at the young man she considered her prince, her Tom. She’d talked to him, shared her secrets, and when she was feeling brave, would hold his hand and squeeze it to say goodbye. He never had visitors, the nurses said so, even when he had first been brought in. An orphan they had told her.

Neville waved at her, signaling he was going to get tea. 

“Someday, the real Slytherin Princess will come, and she’ll kiss you awake from this enchanted sleep. It won’t be a joke one, like me. The Mudblood Slytherin Princess.” Hermione let out a short, depreciating laugh. She leant over and brushed her lips against his. 

“Oh Tom, you deserve so much more than this.” Hermione held Tom’s hand and squeezed it, and nearly shrieked when she received a squeeze back. Hermione looked at him, seeing him open his eyes, a deep cobalt blue.

“You woke up! You’re actually awake” Hermione mumbled in surprise.

“Hello.” Tom’s voice was deep and smooth, velvety and warm.

“Hello.” Hermione answered. There was a pause before she introduced herself. “I’m Hermione.”

“It’s nice to meet you Hermione. My name is Tom. Where— where am I?” Tom tore his gaze from the petite witch staring at him in wonder. An alarm sounded down the hall.

“This is St Mungo’s. I think a nurse is on her way. You’re awake!” Hermione wished she could say something witty or smart, but her shock was getting in the way. A nurse bustled in.

“Hermione dear, is there— My goodness! Tom’s awake!” The nurse let out a surprised squawk and ran back out of the ward.

“Have I been asleep long? I— I don’t know how I got here. Everyone seems so surprised I’m awake.” Tom smirked.

“Oh! Yes, I— well, I just sometimes visit you while I’m here with my friend to see his parents. And, I think a Healer is on the way, they’ll tell you.” Hermione realized she was still holding his hand and tried to release it but he held on.

“Please, don’t go. Just tell me. Please.” Tom’s cobalt blue eyes beseeched her.

“Years. Decades. You’ve been in an enchanted sleep. I snuck a peek at your records. It’s just—  you’re a fellow Slytherin and I come here every few months with my friend. His parents are here. And I wanted you to have a visitor too.” Hermione’s voice got smaller as she explained.

“Oh. I see.” Tom looked down and noticed his uniform. “Your voice seems familiar.”

“I have been talking to you, whenever I’m here, for the past few years.” Hermione felt decidedly uncomfortable sharing with him now that he was awake. A Healer burst in with another two in tow.

“Goodness! He’s awake! Tom, Tom my boy, how are you feeling? I’m Healer Goodwin.” The first Healer stuck out his hand to Tom, who let go of Hermione’s and shook the proffered hand.

“I feel quite well, thank you. A bit confused, and a little overwhelmed if what Hermione,” Tom looked over at her, ”said is correct. What year is it?”

“Ah, yes, Hermione is very compassionate. She’s been volunteering to sit with you whenever she’s here. Hermione, dear, will you give us awhile? I should speak with Tom confidentially.” Healer Goodwin smiled at her. “Though I’d like to talk to you next. Don’t go far.”

“Oh goodness, yes, I’ll be outside. Neville was getting tea— I’ll go join him.” Hermione jumped up, smoothed her skirt and skittered out of the room as quick as she could, with a single backward glance at Tom. She nearly ran into Neville with the cups of tea in the hallway.

“Hermione, are you alright? You’re as pale as a ghost!” Neville asked, handing her a cup and sitting her down in a chair in the hallway that was suddenly busy. “What happened?”

“Tom— the boy in the enchanted sleep— he woke up! While I was talking to him!” Hermione was still rather wide-eyed in shock, and tried to calm herself with the tea.

“Wow, really? No wonder everything is suddenly going crazy.” Neville sipped his own cup of tea, handing the other to Hermione.

“The Healers are in with him now, probably trying to explain everything. And then they want to talk to me.” Hermione mumbled in embarrassment.

“Why?”

“Well, because I was there when he woke up. I— I kissed him and he woke up. Like the stupid muggle fairytale. I’d been joking that a real Slytherin Princess would break his spell like in Sleeping Beauty.” Hermione felt her cheeks burn.

“But you are the Slytherin Princess, and it’s not a joke, not any more. Everyone who calls you that means it. You broke the spell, Hermione! You thought of the one thing that no one else thought of— you’re brilliant.” Neville grinned at her.

“It’s not like one should go around kissing sleeping strangers, Neville. Ugh, it’s his birthday and I just thought how he deserved so much better than being stuck in some enchanted sleep and I thought of that silly fairytale.” Hermione huffed.

“Either way, it worked. You woke him.” Neville elbowed his best friend gently.

“I snuck a look at his chart. He went to sleep in 1944 and never woke up! Not until now, and it’ll be 1997 tomorrow. He’s an orphan too. No family. Displaced entirely.” Hermione sounded miserable.

“Well, if he’s still in Hogwarts, maybe he can adjust there. And start over. And he’s got you. Even if he doesn’t know you quite yet, you have fancied him for years.” Neville smirked.

“Neville! I do not fancy him! And certainly not for years!” Hermione sniffed turning her bright red face away.

“You’ve still been talking to him for years. Even if he doesn’t remember you, it’s something. And you said he’s a Slytherin. So he’s already got an ally in the great Slytherin Princess.” Neville said gently.

“I don’t even know him, but I just feel… I don’t know. It’s the whole reason I started sitting with him in the first place. It just seemed like the right thing to do. I can’t explain it.” Hermione sighed in frustration.

“It’ll be okay, Hermione. You’ve got me. He’s got you. Everything will work out just fine.” Neville smiled.

“I hope so.” Hermione chewed her bottom lip. Healer Goodwin came out of the ward and lead Hermione to his office to tell him what happened that lead up to Tom reawakening. Neville went back into the ward. He saw Tom sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Hey, I’m Neville Longbottom. I’m Hermione’s friend.” Neville walked over to Tom, and held out his hand. Tom shook it.

“Nice to meet you Neville. You must know who I am. Everyone does. And yes, I’m awake.” Tom smiled shortly, before starting to grumble a little. He paused.

“Are you related to Augusta Longbottom? Augusta Prewett married a Longbottom… I guess a very long time ago now, but it seems like only months ago to me.” Tom frowned slightly.

“That’s my gran! She usually visits my mum and dad once a week.” Neville replied.

“I didn’t know her well, but she was head girl last year— or the year before I fell asleep, and I was a prefect that year. Slytherin.” Tom motioned to his tie.

“Hermione’s in Slytherin. I’m a Gryffindor. Like the rest of my family.” Neville rolled his eyes.

“And you two are friends?” Tom asked, curious.

“Best friends. We met the year before we started Hogwarts, in Diagon Alley. It was nice to have a friend before I started school. We figured we’d be sorted into the same house, but it didn’t really matter.” Neville smiled.

“That must be nice. It wasn’t so easy when I went to Hogwarts.” Tom replied smoothly.

“I mean, it’s not to say we didn’t have issues with other people. Hermione used to get a hard time from the Slytherins for, well, everything, but now she’s their princess. Got them all under her thumb.” Neville laughed and Tom grinned.

“Sounds like my kind of gal.”

“She’s been talking to you for years. A little while after I first started taking her with me to see my parents. She won’t admit it, but something about you always drew her to your side.” Neville shrugged.

“Well, I’m glad for it. I think I might have heard her; when I woke up her voice sounded familiar. You said your parents are here?” Tom asked, looking around the room.

“There. Last two beds.” Neville pointed to the far side of the room. His parents were dosing, together on one of their beds. “A rogue group was targeting Aurors when I was a baby, and they tortured my parents. Now, they live here. At least they’re comfortable here, and get the best care.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that. It’s wonderful they have such a caring son to visit them.” Tom said to Neville, who was gazing at his parents.

“I can’t really remember them how they were normally. But Hermione swears that they seem happier and more content after our visits.” Neville shrugged again.

“You sure she’s not a Hufflepuff?” Tom smirked and Neville laughed.

“Definitely. It might have been a joke at first for the Slytherins to call her their princess, but she really is the Slytherin Princess, even to other houses. Everyone wants something from her. And she doles it out if it suits her. But to be honest, Tom, it’s taxing for her. Sometimes she just wants to be Hermione and not have to deal with selling potions or tutoring appointments or procuring whatever muggle thing some kid’s parents don’t want them to have. Or just the sheer fact she’s smarter than everyone and they all know it, and need her to help them. She’s got debts and favors to collect from just about everyone in Slytherin, and half of the school.” Neville admitted. Tom looked impressed.

“Wow. Why would it have been a joke to call someone like her their princess? She sounds like their Queen.” Tom said, almost wistfully.

“She’s the only muggleborn sorted into that house. The Sorting Hat said Slytherin himself would have selected her.” Neville replied.

“Interesting. Thanks for telling me, Neville. I was talking to the Healers, and they’re running diagnostics but I’m free to go. They want me to finish at Hogwarts. I’ll be repeating a few months, but I was in my 6th year. So much for Head Boy though.” Tom frowned at the last bit.

“You’ll be with me and Hermione then. And she already likes you, so everyone else in Slytherin and the school will like you.” Neville grinned.

“She must certainly carry a lot of influence to manage that, though I didn’t have much issues when I was in Slytherin by myself.” Tom smirked.

“Then you’ll be fine. Though it might be weird, I’d guess, going back to school with the grandchildren of the people you’d just been in school with.” Neville said thoughtfully.

“Most likely. I’ll ask the Slytherin Princess when she gets back who is in our house. Maybe I’ll transfer debts to the grandchildren.” Tom snickered.

“Must be a Slytherin thing, dealing in debts and favors.” Neville rolled his eyes.

“It is. What do Gryffindors do?” Tom raised an eyebrow.

“Let things go?” Neville laughed, shrugging. Hermione came in, slightly flustered, muttering about stupid fairytales. She stopped short at the sight of Neville and Tom laughing together.

“Hermione! Come join us. Neville was just telling me more about the Slytherin Princess.” Tom patted the bed beside him.

“Oh please don’t call me that. It was just a joke they started, and somehow they actually believe it now.” Hermione rolled her eyes as she sat down next to him.

“Well, Sleeping Beauty here needed a princess to wake him.” Tom joked, grinning at her.

“That silly fairytale! I’m glad you woke up but for Salazar’s sake, it’s given me such a headache this morning. Wait, you know Sleeping Beauty?” Hermione’s eyes snapped to Tom’s face.

“Yes, I was raised in a muggle orphanage.” Tom said. “There weren’t many books, but there was one of fairytales that was often read aloud.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—“

“No, don’t apologize. I am very grateful that you knew of it. You broke the enchantment. No one else here apparently thought of it.” Tom smiled winningly at Hermione who noticed something… off. He was clearly trying to win her favor, if her experience in Slytherin taught her anything.

“Sometimes mudbloods do it better.” Hermione deadpanned. Neville looked uncomfortable, while Tom continued to smile, but with an interested glint in his eye.

“Such a coarse word to fall from your lips, my princess.” He intoned. “From what your friend has said of you, blood is not might. You must have great power for someone so small.”

“They say size doesn’t matter.” Hermione raised an eyebrow.

“Power is power, and you wield it or you don’t.” Tom returned with a grin.

“Healer Goodwin suggested you may come back to Hogwarts. It will be nice to have an ally that thinks in similar ways.” Hermione gave Tom an appraising look.

“An owl has been sent. Who is headmaster now? I’m sure Dippet must be long gone.” Tom smiled.

“Dumbledore.”

“Hmm. He never liked me.”

“He’s… well let’s just say he hasn’t found a cause to dislike me, and I’ve only had detention with Professor Snape once— he’s our head of house— but I have the feeling Dumbledore’s watching me.” Hermione chose her words carefully.

“Professor Snape?”

“Severus Snape, Slytherin. Class of 1977. Son of Eileen Prince.” Hermione supplied.

“Ah, Eileen had a son. I bet he’s as good with potions as his mother.” Tom grinned.

“Almost as good as I am. Let’s just say my one detention was because I used his mother as inspiration.”

“Which potions do you offer?”

“Sobering solution and a hangover cure of my own creation, patented by the Ministry.” Hermione grinned. “Amongst others. Those are my best sellers.”

“A hangover cure? Patented? While in school? No wonder they call you the Slytherin Princess.” Tom smirked.

“That and the tutoring appointments I take. The Goyle and Crabbe family keep me on retainer, even in the summer.”

“Well, if they’re anything like they’re grandfathers, they’ll need it.”

“I brought them up to acceptables and even some exceeds expectations.” Hermione smiled in pride.

“Now I am truly impressed. And you say it’s a joke? You know, it is a joke.” Tom’s smirk broadened while Hermione’s face hardened.

“You’re their queen, my lady. The Slytherin Queen.” Tom changed his smirk to a smile and Hermione blushed furiously.

“Is this some Slytherin thing?” Neville asked, confused.

“Yes” Hermione and Tom answered at the same time, and laughed.

“Nev, you know how my house is. Always testing. Its why you’re my best friend. My only real friend.”

“Do I not count? Everyone tells me you’ve visited me for years.” Tom pretended to pout.

Hermione gave him an appraising look. “Only if you seek an equal.”

“And if I seek a princess who woke a prince?” Tom smirked.

“It will be placed under consideration.” Hermione sniffed.

“You Slytherins are weird.” Neville shook his head and stood up. “Looks like Mum’s awake— see you soon, I guess. Hermione, when you’re ready.” He walked off towards his parents.

Hermione looked back at Tom.

“We should be getting back. Owl me when you’re getting out. Neville and I are headed back to Hogwarts when we leave. Party tonight in the Slytherin Common room if you can make it.” Hermione winked at Tom, and walked off.

“I didn’t get your full name, Hermione. How am I to owl you?” Tom called.

“Granger. I’m Hermione Granger, though I’m sure if you address it to Slytherin Princess at Hogwarts it will still find me.” Hermione stuck out her tongue and joined Neville. When they had said goodbye, they left the ward and apparated away.

“The Slytherin Princess is a mudblood. She’s brilliant, and seeks an equal. I could find use for her.” Tom murmured to himself, stretching out on his bed. Now, to wait until they released him, and then it was back to Hogwarts, and having to start all bloody over.

* * *

 

It was dinner time when Professor Dumbledore sought out Hermione.

“Ah, Miss Granger. So glad to have caught you. We have a student arriving, and I’m told you and Mr Longbottom have already been acquainted. And,” Albus Dumbledore’s bright blue eyes twinkled, “you broke the sleeping enchantment on Mr. Riddle yourself, Miss Granger. Very clever, a muggle fairytale. Sometime, you must read the original Tales of Beedle the Bard. One of my favorites. But yes, Mr Riddle is arriving and he’ll be placed back in Slytherin House to finish his education. He’ll probably have a little catching up to do with the curriculum difference over the years. But, I did have him as a student when I taught Transfiguration, and he’s as good as you Miss Granger. I do believe you will be able to help him with his studies, if he needs any. Since the Head Students have gone home for the holidays, may I rely on you, as Slytherin Prefect to welcome him to your house and reacquaint him with Hogwarts?” 

Hermione set down her cutlery and nodded.

“Yes, Professor. I am honored to have been trusted with this. Tom is very charming, and it was ever so surprising when he woke up this morning. I’ll be sure that he feels right at home and can adjust as well as one can hope. I did read a book on muggle psychology that may be of interest.” Hermione smiled serenely and Dumbledore nodded happily.

“Good! Good. Please arrive at my office at 7pm sharp. He’ll be floo’d in and one of the elves will be bringing his trunk from St Mungo’s. He’ll be in with the 6th year boys. Are any around for this holiday?” Dumbledore asked.

“Just Blaise Zambini. I will notify him. He’ll be glad for the company.” Hermione continued smiling. “I will finish eating and notify my housemates. I’ll see you at 7, professor.”

“Yes! Good! Excellent! Thank you Miss Granger. I hope you like Fizzing Whizbees!” Dumbledore nodded again and walked off.

“Did he seem rather… strange to you?” Hermione asked Neville.

“You mean, more than usual?”

“Yeah.”

“Definitely."

“Thought so. Tom did say Dumbledore didn’t like him in school.” Hermione said thoughtfully.

“Party tonight anyways. Good way to get to know everyone. It’ll be like a welcome home party, with people he doesn’t know.” Neville laughed.

“C’mon Neville, finish up eating. Things to do!” Hermione picked at her food again. She felt a little… nervous was it? She wasn’t sure. But, she was going to need to eat with the evening’s plans. So Hermione tucked into her dinner.

* * *

After rushing through dinner, Hermione left Neville to go to the Slytherin Common room to ensure that the party for that evening would be ready and also find Blaise Zambini. Thankfully, the latter was easy enough. Stepping through the stone door in the dungeons, she spotted him.

“Zambini. I need a word. Now.” Hermione called out, and the common room stilled for a moment, before revving up with whispers. Blaise jumped up, leaving the witch he’d been sweet talking to speak with Hermione.

“Yes, Princess?”

“For Salazar’s sake, don’t call me that. You know I don’t like it. You’re getting a new roommate tonight. Long story short— he went to Hogwarts in the 40’s, fell into an enchanted sleep, and woke up this morning. He’s coming back tonight to finish his 6th year. He’s got no family, so don’t ask. Be nice to him. Charming bloke, so watch your witches.” Hermione’s gaze traveled over to the blonde Blaise had been chatting up, trying to remember her name. Ravenclaw… Looney? Luna? Yes, Luna.

“Got it, Granger. He’s coming tonight?”

“Yup, I’m meeting him at the Headmaster’s office at 7… which means I need to leave soon. Is everything ready? The alcohol was delivered to your room, so make sure it’s neat and go back to your witch’s room or find a broom closet tonight if you must. Have the elves confirmed our food request?”

“Yes, Blinky confirmed with me this afternoon. She promised not to tell anyone, nor punish herself, per your orders. I had thought I’d be hosting Luna upstairs so the dorm this evening, but I will not be that rude as to lock out a new roommate on his first night. So, Slytherin 6th year from the 40’s? Weird.”

“Yeah, he knows a lot of the Pureblood grandparents. Let’s hope gramps didn’t have any debts or favors owed.” Hermione grinned.

“Won’t that be delightful?” Blaise laughed.

“Okay, go back to your witch. Expect a trunk and another bed in your room within the hour. And do ask Luna to join us this evening. She’s always fun, particularly on New Year’s. Though if she wants to bathe nude in the moonlight she’s on her own. It’s absolutely frigid out.” Hermione grinned, before leaving Blaise and heading to her own room, to check her hair charms and freshen up, though she would never admit it to anyone. Hermione Granger, Slytherin Princess, never pursued a bloke in her life, but it certainly wouldn’t hurt her to look decent before meeting Tom on her home turf.

At five minutes to 7pm, Hermione was at the stone gargoyle, giving the password “Fizzing Whizbee” and then going up the circular staircase. She knocked at the door, and it swung open.

“Ah, Miss Granger. Good to see you again.” Dumbledore’s twinkling blue eyes disconcerted her a bit. She noticed Professor Snape standing to the side.

“Professor Snape. I hope you have been enjoying your holiday. I was talking to Tom this morning, he mentioned he knew your mother.” Hermione said, conversationally.

“Indeed. Well, he will be an exceptional addition to Slytherin house. His record his impeccable. I believe our resident know-it-all may need to work a little harder to stay first.” Snape smirked at her. Hermione could understand how many students didn’t like him, but mostly she thought they simply didn’t understand his humor. Or Slytherins. No, most of the school did not understand Slytherins at all. Probably better that way.

“I will do my best, sir. But I do have a patent to my name. So at least I can dry my tears with that.”

“Best to bottle them, for your next potion, Miss Granger."

“Ever resourceful, Professor.”

“Tom should be arriving…. now.” Professor Dumbledore cut into their conversation, as the fireplace roared green, and Tom Riddle tumbled through, straightening up gracefully. Hermione felt anyone who could travel via floo network and not fall over when they landed deserved a medal and slow clapping.

“Ah, welcome Tom! It’s been quite awhile, thought I must say, it probably seems like yesterday to you. This is Professor Snape, the current Slytherin Head of House, and you know Miss Hermione Granger, Slytherin Prefect.” Dumbledore held out his hand to Tom, who shook it warily. The two eyed each other, Tom unsure of what 50 years could do to misgivings and dislike, Dumbledore trying to remember no time had passed for the young man in front of him.

“Yes, Welcome back, Mister Riddle. Miss Granger will accompany you this evening and I am available should you need additional help during the holidays or rest of the year. The Slytherin Head of House rooms and offices have not changed, and I am Potions Master of the school. Took over from Horace Slughorn, so I daresay you can find me if needs must. I am sure Miss Granger will be able to situate you best at this point. Good evening.” Snape nodded and swept out of the room. Tom remained impassive. He turned to Hermione and smiled.

“Well Miss Granger, it seems that you are to rescue me once again. I would be honored to have your guidance to the common room, just to be sure I haven’t lost any memories in the enchanted sleep. Shall we?” He held out his arm to her, and she took it.

“Mr Riddle, I would be exceedingly pleased to do so. Do follow me. Thank you Headmaster!” Hermione waved as she and Tom set off to the common room. Dumbledore waved back merrily. 

Dumbledore started to pace as soon as the students had left. Tom Riddle showing up was interesting, particularly noticing his interactions with Hermione Granger. Tom seemed fond enough of her, but Dumbledore did have to wonder if that would extend past his finding out she was muggleborn. But, she’s also the only muggleborn to go to Slytherin House. When she was first sorted, he had to have a conversation with the hat and at the Board of Governor’s request have Hermione try on the hat again just to be certain. He wasn’t sure himself at first, but watching her flourish and extend her influence over the years, Dumbledore knew she belonged there. He just felt that she could have been so different had she been in a different house. Dumbledore couldn’t help but worry that Tom Riddle would fall back on his dark tendencies and drag Hermione, a powerful and influential witch coming into her own, down with him.

* * *

“So, that was rather awkward” Hermione laughed once they reached the hallway.

“Definitely.” Tom let out his own laugh. “Is Professor Snape always like that? He reminds me so much like Eileen. He looks quite a bit like her too,”

“Yeah, he’s got a very wry sense of humor. You’ll pick up on it.”

“I think I already know it. It’s the same as his mother’s” Tom smirked.

“You do have the advantage of knowing family members, and of course, in Slytherin, family holds weight. What are your intentions in my house?” Hermione turned to face him. She felt she needed to confront him before they got to the common room.

“Your house?” Tom quirked an eyebrow

“Yes, my house. Everyone says I’m the damn Slytherin Princess, and I know you fake it for the Healers and just now and you were slippery as hell this morning. I run a tight ship and I won’t have you screwing with my success.” Hermione folded her arms. “I looked you up, Riddle. You got an award for special services to the school but I had to do some real digging to find out that it was something to do with the Chamber of Secrets, and that Hagrid was expelled for having an acromantula. But according to my research, that’s not the monster in the Chamber of Secrets now is it?” Hermione narrowed her eyes.

“No, it isn’t.” Tom’s face was blank as he surveyed the witch in front of him. He was a head taller than her, but she stood her ground and he could feel the raw energy and sense of power that just rolled off of her. 

“Are you going to threaten me?” Hermione asked.

“Why would I?” Tom asked, surprised.

“I’m a mudblood.”

“I thought the socially appropriate word was Muggleborn.” Tom couldn’t help a small smile.

“I got used to it. I’ve been the Mudblood of Slytherin since the day I arrived here. Course, the insult is pretty meaningless to someone who isn’t insulted by it and beats the pants off of the Sacred 28 and everyone else.”

“I’m not interested in harming you, Hermione. If anything, I owe you a life debt.” Tom smirked.

“I don’t want a life debt.” Hermione retorted.

“You said I could be your friend if I sought an equal.” Tom reminded her.

“I did. From what I could dig up, the allies you had in school mostly disbanded after you left. They had no leader and no direction. Some of their children tried to form the group again, and they were the ones who attacked the Aurors. Tortured Neville’s parents to insanity, and blew Harry Potter’s house to bits, killing his parents. Miraculously, the curse didn’t kill him, thought he’s got a funny scar on his forehead. 6th year as well. So I ask again, what are your intentions?” Hermione maintained her composure. She didn’t want to confront Tom in front of Neville, not over something that happened that Tom technically wasn’t involved in, just related to in a ripple effect. Tom, on the other hand, was fascinated by this petite witch with so much power in her, just rolling off of her and crackling in her hair.

“My intentions? Knowledge, of all kinds with no limitations. Knowledge is power. I know I want you as an ally, and likely more than that. I never had an equal at Hogwarts in my time. Instead I find myself 50 years in the future being stared down by probably the one person who could possibly fill that role, a pretty little witch no less. I think it may have been fated, to fall into an enchanted sleep to be kissed awake by my only equal.” Tom smiled slowly, and looked Hermione up and down. Hermione tried not to blush.

“And how do I know you will treat me as an equal? I submit to no one, Tom Riddle.” Hermione sneered.

“Not yet, little witch.” Tom ginned at her, took Hermione’s elbow and continued down the hallway to their common room. 

“One as powerful as you can both submit and still be equal.” Tom whispered in her ear. Hermione gave him a look. 

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know the stunt you pulled back there, rolling off raw energy like that. Nifty trick, I can do it too.” Tom smirked.

“Well, if what you say is true, I expect you to submit to me before I consider you for an equal.” Hermione returned.

“What do you think I’ve been doing, Princess? If you know about the Chamber of Secrets, you know that only the Heir of Slytherin can open it. And you know that Hagrid is not the Heir. Put it the pieces together, little witch.” Tom sneered.

“I know who you are, Tom Marvolo Riddle. I am not afraid of you, Heir of Slytherin. The Sorting Hat picked me to be the Mudblood of Slytherin house. The only Mudblood. They made me wear the hat twice to be sure. Slytherin himself would have selected me.” Hermione spat at him. Tom pushed her up against a stone wall. Hermione felt a thrill of excitement run through her.

“Yes, my pretty little witch. So you’ve said. Do you want me to call you a mudblood too? So I’m like the rest? I am not. I could see you for what you were this morning. I heard your voice through that damn enchantment. I know you are worthy, but do you? Who are you trying to convince princess? You could be queen, and yet you remain the Mudblood Princess.” Tom’s breath was hot on her neck while he hissed in her ear. Hermione’s pulse quickened as she enjoyed the sensations and his words.

“I know who I am.” Hermione bared her neck to him, and Tom trailed soft kisses down it.

“Then we understand each other. No need for silly games or power plays. We both seek knowledge. The question is, where are your limits?” Tom nuzzled her neck.

“I will tell you when I find them. Nothing has been beyond my ability yet.” Hermione was trying control her breathing, maintain her concentration

“It’s not about ability, it’s what you are willing to learn.” Tom looked into Hermione’s honey brown eyes, gently probing her with legillimency. She allowed him into her mind, pulling up memories of her research and constant skipping ahead and side reading. Her desire to learn and know.

“Everything.” Hermione breathed, and kissed him, hard. Satisfied, Tom kissed her back with ferocity.

“You’re mine, witch.”

 

 

 


End file.
